


Chidoriyama's Super Libero

by fantasyseal



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Drabble, Nishinoya Yuu Is Not All That Tactful, Post-Season/Series 03, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 09:32:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13292025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantasyseal/pseuds/fantasyseal
Summary: Why would the best middle-school libero in the prefecture go to a school that hasn't made it past the prelims in years?(It's the uniform, obviously. Have you guys SEEN that suit and tie wear Shiratorizawa uses?)





	Chidoriyama's Super Libero

“Nishinoya!”

Nishinoya looks up and frowns at their coach. He’s in the middle of a practice match, so he waves a signal to wait until he’s rotated out again and then dives for the ball, swearing in his head as he tries to compensate for the delay.

“Sorry, cover,” he calls, seeing that it’s short. His teammate dashes in and bumps it (shooting a look over his shoulder to check that Nishinoya is okay, because that was seriously an easy receive and he’s _Nishinoya fucking Yuu_ ), they spike it over, and Nishinoya high-fives their middle blocker-slash-captain and runs out.

“Yes, sir?” he asks, trying (and failing) to hide his impatience at being forced off the court.

“There’s a scout here to talk to you,” his coach says, in his pointed _don’t screw this up_ tone. “From Shiratorizawa High School.”

Nishinoya raises an eyebrow and walks to the indicated spot in the corner. This guy has to be at least a hundred years old, he decides, and his eyebrows are terrifying.

“You’re Chidoriyama’s libero?” he asks, eyes sweeping over Nishinoya, obviously sizing him up.

Not even a greeting. Nishinoya is a firm believer in respecting those who respect him. He already doesn’t like this guy (he’s heard enough about Shiratorizawa and battled them enough times on the court to know he doesn’t like _anyone_ from that school). “Nishinoya Yuu,” he says, sticking a hand out. “Third-year. And…”

“Tanji Washijō,” the man says, glancing at Nishinoya’s hand and not taking it. “I’m Shiratorizawa’s coach.” His voice is clipped and professional. “I came today to watch you play, and talk about offering you a place on our team…”

Nishinoya laughs, as loudly as he can, right in the man’s face. “HA!” He barely even has to force it. The idea of playing at Shiratorizawa is genuinely hilarious, and he doubles over and clutches his sides.

The man’s eyebrows narrow, and Nishinoya stays doubled over to hide his smile. _There you are._ “What are you doing?”

“Sorry,” Nishinoya says, and stands straight and tall and _smirks._ “I’ve picked a school out already. I’m going to Karasuno.”

The coach’s face twists into an _extremely_ unattractive scowl. “I think,” he says, slowly, like he thinks Nishinoya isn’t all that bright, “I think you’ll find we’re a better fit for your skill level than _Karasuno._ ” He makes ‘Karasuno’ sound like a curse, spitting the word.

“Sorry,” Nishinoya says (he is absolutely not sorry at all), and turns. “I’m afraid my mind’s made up. If you’ll excuse me, sir, I’m in the middle of a match.”

“Young man.” Nishinoya’s eye twitches. “What makes Chidoriyama’s super libero choose a school that hasn’t made it past prelims in years over Shiratorizawa?”

“Hmm,” Nishinoya says, tapping one finger on his chin, giving the matter all due consideration. “It’s the uniform.”

“Excuse me?”

“The boys’ uniform is really attractive,” Nishinoya explains. He keeps a perfect straight face on. “I like the color. And have you _seen_ the girls’ uniform? Really, it’s a no-brainer. Plus it’s close to my house.”

The coach appears to have run out of words. Nishinoya lets a tiny smile out that turns into his beaming Rolling Thunder grin. “Excuse me.”

“You’re throwing your future away over a _uniform?”_ the coach explodes. “Do you have any idea how unlikely it is that a player like you would ever get the recognition you deserve with Karasuno?”

Nishinoya’s head tilts in genuine confusion. “I don’t play for recognition, sir. I wouldn’t be a libero if I wanted that.” _Mention my height and nationally recognized coach or not I will_ end _you._ “I protect my team, and I keep the ball from hitting the ground. That’s it.”

“You’ll regret this,” the coach says when Nishinoya turns his back for the third time. “Shiratorizawa’s a better school.”

“Debatable,” Nishinoya yells over his shoulder. He takes off, back to his match.

“Get your ass over here, Mr. Super Libero!” the back-row middle blocker yells. “You know I can’t receive to save my life.”

“Sorry, sorry! Ow!” His teammate hits his hand possibly _slightly_ harder than necessary as they switch.

Nishinoya gets into position and waits for the ball, and doesn’t give another thought to the old man watching their match in the corner.

 

Two years later, Nishinoya stands on the court against Shiratorizawa, in Karasuno’s uniform. The last ball slams down on Shiratorizawa’s side, and the gym falls silent.

The scoreboard changes.

Nishinoya’s never been happier in his entire life, probably. The third-years sobbing all over each other is the best thing he’s seen _ever_ (and much preferable to the anxious frowns they’d had after the Inter-High), and it doesn’t take long for him to join the hug-pile on the floor with the rest of the team. Shouyou laughs in his ear, Ryu cackles, Tsukishima does his level best to squirm away, Chikara just sort of pats them all on the back in a resigned fashion. Kageyama might be crying. Tadashi is definitely crying.

“Get _off me,”_ the blond who’s somehow wound up on the bottom of the pile growls, and shoves at them until they oblige. Nishinoya laughs and climbs off, making sure to step on Tsukishima’s foot and ignoring his indignant _“Nishinoya-san”._

He feels the Demon Coach’s stare on his back, but damned if he’s going to acknowledge him right this minute. Right now he just wants to make sure his teammates know what a _fucking amazing_ job they did. Especially Asahi-san. But everyone else too.

So he does, and they get through the award ceremony, and only _then_ does Nishinoya walk over to Shiratorizawa’s old Demon Coach.

“That’s why,” he says, nodding at his team. “They’re a team worth protecting.”

The coach looks confused, and Nishinoya grins. “Karasuno’s strength is in connections, Takeda-sensei says.” He gestures to the third-years (Kiyoko seems to be holding onto Yachi in a separate cry-pile now). “They let me play my best, and I let them play their best. That’s why I went to Karasuno, because it was known for that years ago, and now it is again.”

“You staked your future on a what-if.”

“Paid off, and I’d do it again,” Nishinoya answers. “They’re my team. Always will be. Asahi-san will always be my ace, and I don’t care if Suga doesn’t set as much anymore, he’s still my setter. Daichi-san will always be my captain. Ryu will always be my best friend.” He turns and looks at the first-years. “And those kids fit right into our family. Even Tsukishima.”

He bows. “Excuse me,” and he runs back, sliding under the net to catch Ryu and Asahi in a hug (and winds up getting pulled into the third-years’ crying).

_We’re going to Nationals._

**Author's Note:**

> found this in my oneshots and slapped an ending on it  
> pls talk to me i live for comments


End file.
